


Do You Want to Obi-Wan Ke Know Me?

by thatdamneddame



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Future Fic, Getting Together, Halloween, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-23 14:43:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2551361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatdamneddame/pseuds/thatdamneddame
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek used to be a ridiculous shit about Halloween.</p><p>“Oh, I don’t know,” he would muse. “I’m game for anything that doesn't involve throwing an underage rave in my loft without my permission.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do You Want to Obi-Wan Ke Know Me?

**Author's Note:**

> Happy belated Halloween! I actually started writing this on Halloween, so that counts.
> 
> Thanks to the wonderful prettyasadiagram for the beta and the life coaching, as per usual. That girl is my favorite. And also thanks to suhodownthrowdown for the beta and the stunning title, you master of puns, you.

Derek used to be a ridiculous shit about Halloween.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he would muse. “I’m game for anything that doesn’t involve throwing an _underage rave_ in my loft without my permission.”

Apparently, when he’d evolved into an actual fucking wolf, Derek had also found himself a sense of humor. He’d been making remarks like this for that past month, so Stiles had absolutely zero compunctions about throwing his napkin at his face.

Because Derek was actually the world’s biggest asshole, he didn’t use his werewolf reflexes at all and let himself be hit in the face. “Ow,” he deadpanned. “My eye.”

Stiles had the sudden desire to both kiss Derek and punch him in the throat, which was completely mortifying in and of itself, without adding to it that Stiles had been feeling like this a lot lately. Fortunately he was saved by Scott offering to watch scary movies and help pass out candy at his mom’s place.

 

***

 

The first time Stiles sees Derek flash his fangs at trick-or-treaters, he laughs so hard he cries. He actually has to excuse himself to go lay on Mrs. McCall’s couch for a half hour, feeling like a Victorian debutante recovering from a fainting spell. But really, he’s recovering from the earth-shattering, life-altering discovery that Derek Hale is the world’s biggest dork.

When he finally manages to stagger back to the door, Scott and Derek have apparently perfected their two-werewolf show. The only option is for Stiles to shrug on his red hoodie and keep saying, “Grandma, what big teeth you have,” doing all that he can to ignore the way that when Derek blushes, the tips of his ears go pink first.

 

***

 

Freshman year of college, Halloween goes the same way—scary movies and handing out candy at the McCall’s. Sophomore year, though, Scott and Stiles discover Halloween parties.

 

***

 

By senior year of college, it is Stiles’s crowning shame in life—and okay maybe his priorities are a little off, but he’s never claimed to be a good person—but Scott _still_ has never seen Star Wars.

“I can’t go by myself,” Stiles explains for the eight-hundredth time. “I’m just going to look like a hobo in robes.”

Scott rolls his eyes because he’s heartless. “It’s not my fault that you can’t grow a beard, dude. Pick someone else. Like, Dark Vader. People know him.”

Stiles doesn’t even bother repressing the full body shudder. “ _Darth Vader_. Oh my god, you know that.” Scott flashes him the world’s biggest shit-eating grin and Stiles groans in defeat. “Come on,” he pleads. “I’ll be Obi, you’ll be Han Solo. It’s going to be fucking great.”

 

***

 

Except it’s not fucking great: Scott goes in a toga made out of his Tony Hawk sheets and crocs, because he’s an embarrassment to Halloween. Apparently he never got further in his planning than _not Han Solo_ , which, ugh, Stiles doesn’t even know why he’s friends with him. It’s the biggest Halloween houseparty in Beacon Hills, and somehow (well, Scott’s lacrosse skills and infectious personality) they got an invite.

Stiles goes as Obi-Wan Kenobi anyways, because he spent an embarrassing amount of money on this costume way back in June so he can’t not wear it.

But there has to be a god, or at least some divine force that wants Stiles to be happy, because he’s hanging out by the punch bowl—drinking and not at all sulking about the fact he is the coolest motherfucking Jedi ever but it’s Scott and his shitty not even a costume that’s getting all the attention—when Derek Hale walks over and says, “Those aren’t the drinks you’re looking for.”

It’s the most universal Star Wars reference out there, but it doesn’t stop Stiles from kneejerk asking, “Aren’t you a little short for a stormtrooper?”

Then Derek Hale, Derek motherfucking Hale, glances down at what he’s wearing and then back up at Stiles, one of those rare, wonderful smiles on his face, and says, “Huh? Oh, the uniform?” and then, “I’m actually Chewbacca.”

And he is, he really is. He’s wearing a brown hoodie, brown pants, brown boots, with Chewie’s bandolier slung across his chest.

“The beard’s a nice touch,” Stiles hears himself say. He feels like he’s in the twilight zone; _none_ of his friends have even seen Star Wars.

Somehow Derek’s smile seems to get brighter and Stiles never thought this would happen, but he definitely didn’t think it would happen like this.

 

***

 

Later, in a dark room in someone else’s house, Derek mumbles, “Great, kid. Now don’t get cocky,” in between kisses, sounding like it’s all he can do to keep himself together.

Stiles has a _lot_ he could say to that, but he’s also got the beginnings of beard burn on his face and Derek panting into his neck, so instead he shoves his hand down Derek’s pants and asks, “What if I get just a little cocky?”

And when Derek laughs but doesn’t pull away, just tries to push himself impossibly closer to Stiles touch, Stiles realizes that this is it. Derek better be ready to be in it for the long haul because Stiles has a ten-year plan for Lydia Martin and she can’t even name a single person in the Rebel Alliance.

Derek licks his way into Stiles’s mouth and he’s wearing the laziest Chewbacca costume ever and Stiles has the dizzying realization that this is very probably love.

 

***

 

Scott never invites them to another Halloween party again— “Dude, Rob’s girlfriend thought he was cheating because you assholes _ruined his sheets_. He had to burn them.”—but all of Scott’s friends are Stiles’s friends, so they end up going to the same ones anyways.

Whatever, he’s just jealous. Stiles and Derek always win the couples’ costume contest; he knew those Obi-Wan robes were a great idea.

 

***

 

(The next year they go as Little Red Riding Hood and The Big Bad Wolf because Stiles is hilarious and Derek cheaped out this year and wanted to go as _werewolf with a tortured past_. Stiles was trying not to make it into a thing.

“Ugh, I hate you guys,” Scott tells them emphatically, walking in on Stiles and Derek making out in the coat closet. "You're terrible at Halloween."

"Technically," Stiles says, checking his watch, "it's not Halloween anymore."

Derek's eyes flash gold. "Good thing I’m not dressed up." 

Stiles smiles. "Well, don't leave me hanging, bro. Now I'm just an asshole in a cape."

It shouldn't work—it's impossibly lame—but this is Derek and this is them and it works. It works every fucking time.)

 


End file.
